No Regrets
by bella11356
Summary: She had no regrets until she met him, and she would be damned if he stayed one. Olivia loved Fitz, and he loved her. Regardless of position, or title, or timing...nothing mattered. He would NOT be one of her regrets. Takes place after season 1, but doesn't quite follow season 2 so far.


**I related to Olivia much more than I would ever want to. I am a firm believer in you can't help who you love. I've been in the exact same place she's in. I was for three years. I don't want to think that my story is exactly a happy ending…but it was for me. Let's just say that I know what it's like to love someone married, and I know what it's like to feel like you can't breathe without someone. But I know the other side of this story as well, and I hope that I can share it with you during the course of this. **

**This will be a little longer than a short story, and I will try to update as much as I can. Also…I'm a review **_**whore,**_** for real. Show me some love, I'll show it right back.**

She had regret.

She had never had regret before.

Sure, she had some things that maybe a different outcome would have been more preferable, or a few things she wouldn't have minded a different ending...but never regret.

It haunted her, it hurt her heart, it tormented her sleep, and put her into a walking nightmare each and every waking moment of her day.

She regretted the moment she convinced herself she could let him go. That she could live and breathe and...thrive without Fitz. Without his touch and his smell, the way that he could take her breath away with a quick glance, she just couldn't function. Once she had met him, _loved_ him, she couldn't live on her own anymore.

Olivia Pope was not this girl. She was not this sappy, broken hearted, romantic girl. She was a fighter; she got what she wanted...she was a gladiator in a suit.

But the stolen moment in the hallway during his campaign change it all. She could still remember the way his dress shoes clacked as he ran down the hall to catch her. All she had needed to do was close her eyes, part her lips a little, and tilt her head. Fitz would have done the rest. It was the beginning of the end. The beginning of the end, because he _was _the end. He was the end of every dream come true, the end of every romantic day dream. He…Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III…was it.

Now she when closed her eyes, she regret what she had done. Every moment she kept her eyes closed for just a second too long her stomach fell out like she was falling. Falling into this bottomless pit of despair and darkness, further and further away from him. Further from the very thing that completed every single part of her that she was missing.

With ever fiber of her being she regretted not being selfish, for trying to be "morally correct," for not coming up with a different plan. She regretted Mellie. She regretted not just telling her "I'm the fixer, I know best...I know him best, I and I along know what he _needs_... I'm the fixer, I will fix it." She should have just told her that and walked out of the room.

Their relationship was gone. She had given up when the news of the baby broke and stopped answering the phone. She couldn't bare to listen to the messages but she heard them anyways. Always with silent tears running down her soft cheeks. If only he knew the way he affected her he would stop calling. Sometimes Cyrus would call just to really seal the deal.

"He's not sleeping Liv, he needs you."

"He's not eating enough Liv, he misses you."

"He can barely function without you Livia, he _loves_ you."

She heard these words in her head and felt the grip they had on her. They were like a knife twisting in her heart when she heard their tone pleading with, begging her...to just listen, to just...reconsider.

Then the threats started coming in.

Cyrus has not wanted to call her; he could find someone else, someone better. Someone more emotionally equipped to handle this. Someone who didn't have a personal interest in the matter. Someone…who didn't love the target.

"Who's better than Olivia Pope?" Fitz asked with that tone, the do-not-question-me, I-am-the-president-tone. "Who is better at what she does then Olivia?"

Millie rolled her eyes, holding onto her ever growing belly as she rose from the sofa.

"On that note, I am leaving. I mean, of course Olivia is the best, who needs the FBI, CIA, NSA when you have her? I have a doctors appointment tomorrow Fitz...if you care..."

The hair on the back of Fitz's neck stood up at the tone in Millie's voice. It echoed through his head like nails scratching their way down a chalk board. Like it was just resounding and bouncing off the walls till he covered his ears and rocked back and forth like a small child. That is how she sounded to him. That is the way her attitude reeked off of her and onto him. The door closed with a slam and he flinched slightly, closing his eyes, his hands running over his face.

"What do we know?" he asked Cyrus.

"Nothing. It's clean in every way possible. It's an inside job."

The president looked up from his desk.

"You're sure?"

"Yes it was delivered inter office mail, plain envelop, only your name on the front. As of now only a few have seen it, or know about it, but we are expecting more. Where it came from is untraceable. We can look through days of tape but it's practically useless. It could have been slid between two other envelopes before whoever it was got to work, put in the mail and the letter was never seen by the eye in the sky." Cyrus was serious. He was using his big boy voice, his eyes set and determined.

"Call Livvie" the president ordered.

"She won't answer or return my calls," Cy told him, "It's going to have to be you."

"Considered it done," Fitz told him. Yeah easier said than done...she wasn't answering his calls either.

"You're getting extra detail," Cyrus told him as he gathered his things on the way out.

"Fine," said the president begrudgingly. "Do me a favor, call her, leave her a message, tell her the basics...tell her I will call tonight."

Cyrus nodded and walked out.

Fitz was at his breaking point. He hadn't slept soundly in months and he grew more and more aggravated with Millie every time he laid eyes on her. They way she pranced around rubbing her damn belly. He had his suspicious as to where that baby really came from, and he was most definitely not on the top of that list…unless it was an act of God. She was way too pleased with herself. But it didn't matter. The baby would look like a baby long enough and in two years he would make the announcement he wasn't running again. By the time anyone figured out that "Americas baby" was most definitely NOT "Americas baby" they would be long gone out of the white house, and so would he and Millie.

Then...the he would be _free._


End file.
